Page 72 of Shadows and Roses

The first sharp lash shocked him out of his mental game. He tensed, heart suddenly beating faster. Lightning stings made his back twinge. The cell came into sharp focus. He knew he should relax but it was so hard to force calm after every strike. His body was on fire, his legs shuddering at the effort to stand. That one broke skin. He flinched, wrapping his hands around the chains and groaning. The sound seemed to encourage her, three more fast, hard cracks making him jump each time.

The whip stroked his buttocks, the back of his legs, then between his ass cheeks. He couldn't calm his tense muscles anymore. The open wounds on his back stung and throbbed, the whip threatening with every soft touch, or terrible anticipation when it lifted. He glared at the bars. He was trained in pleasure, not torture.

"What do you want?" he gritted out.

"Your pleasure,” she purred. “Come for me. That’s all I want; come right now and I’ll stop." Her hand curled around the back of his neck. He shook her off with a growl.

The whip came down on his ass, slicing him open on the third lash. Across his back again, cutting deeper. He panted, gasped, hissed at the overwhelming pain. Too much. Was she going to kill him? Blood dripped down his legs as he kept twitching, twistingin desperate attempts to get away.

The lashes stopped. She moved to stand in front of him, the whip gone. He sagged, releasing the chains and breathing hard. With a satisfied smirk, she left the cell and came back with a wet towel. Gentle, cool cloth cleaned his wounds and wiped away the blood.

"There, there, now. You did good," she cooed.

"I-I’m from the Night Courts," he panted. "They’ll pay for my return. Unharmed," he added, half-dazed from the pain.

She laughed. "A bit late for that, aren’t we? Besides," she paused, tilting his chin up with a claw, "I know who you are, Escort. Do you think it’d hurt Anais more if I returned you broken or dead?"

The blood drained from his head fast enough to make him dizzy.

"I’m new to court. She barely knows me. And I’m not valuable to her, I’m just her toy.” True enough, wasn’t it? If this woman lost interest, perhaps they’d kill him quickly—or better yet, forget about him. Anything but torture.

The claw left his chin, traveled slowly down his neck and chest. "Didn’t she teach you not to lie to a Queen?" All five claws sliced across his chest. Shallow cuts, but he gasped in pain. The cool cloth dabbed at his new wounds. "She doesn’t make just anyone an Escort. You’re special, somehow. Tell me everything, my sweet shadow."

A Queen. The nine-pointed sun. The woman from the cage. Nadraken’s Queen was going to break him. And she knew who he was. He swallowed, jaws clenched. He had no illusions about his ability to resist pain. Of course, he’d fight, but fear was already whispering for him to give in, to tell her anything she wanted to hear. She wouldn’t believe him anyway.

Her hand drifted back between his legs.

He shivered.

Anais

The scouts failed.

Harsh, but true. The Nadrakenan infiltrators were always a day ahead. Once a half day past the border, the scouts hurried back.

The days passed with excruciating slowness. A fast rider might make it to the southern border in a week, then nearly as long to Coriante, the capital of Nadraken. Queen Yelena was in no hurry. Two weeks went by. At least the silence provoked her council. The snakes felt snubbed, and encouraged their Queen to move ahead with war. She wanted so badly to oblige them. The legion at the border ought to invoke a response.

One more day dripped past, each second practically scratched into her skin. Doing nothing was what she hated most. Castien was an Escort. She should act. Wouldn’t she do more if Vern had been the one taken? Or any of the others.

Anais barely stopped herself from throwing a knife into Magdus’ throat when he again commented about the fuss over a "useless whore". The others had titles. Rank.

But that wasn’t what stayed her hand. All the hells could swallow her court, but if she started a war that threw the nation into death and chaos, everything her and her mother had worked for would lay in ruins.

So she woke earlier, slept later. The combat circles were empty in the cool, grey mornings. Anais spent that time taking out her frustrations on a weathered-looking training dummy. Midway through her practice, her mind finally settled as her body almost instinctively went through the familiar motions.

Vern entered the edges of her vision with sheets of paper in hand.

"Aletter from Queen Yelena, my lady."

Three weeks. It had taken the bitch three weeks to respond.

She paused. The letter must have been at least ten pages long. Raising a brow, she focused again on the wooden dummy. "Summarize."

"She has declined to acknowledge the kidnapping."

Kick.

"Is that all?"

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